light on the surface
by Mia-Zeklos
Summary: "There are nights when Jace is too tired to dream and for that, he's grateful." Coda to 3x10.


**Notes: Not sure what this is, exactly, or how coherent it truly is. It's just a fraction of everything I need to get out of my system after the finale and it mainly just focuses on the effects that the events would have on everyone personally. It's supposed to be canon compliant (assuming, of course, that they've discovered some trace of Clary being alive), but it's open for interpretation, given the context.**

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There are nights when Jace is too tired to dream and for that, he's grateful. Or too tired to _remember_ , at least, which is just as well – it doesn't really matter what his mind is doing without his knowledge as long as it still belongs to him. He still feels slightly paranoid upon waking up sometimes, and not just then – occasionally he forgets a small detail of his last assignment or an order or even a part of his routine and panic grips his chest until he can walk himself through every little detail of the last twenty-four hours.

It's annoying and exhausting and – if he has to guess – mildly irritating for everyone around him, but it's the best he's got and Jace isn't too eager to give it up.

Not when there are still nights when he dreams.

The Owl is dead; there's no doubt about that. Whoever – _whatever_ – he had been had evaporated from the disgusting splash of ichor that it had formed on the cement in that alley once Jace had finally been freed from it. Since then, Jace had tried to reason with himself too many times to count that bringing the memory up every time he wants to remember the truth of it isn't necessary, but it had never quite worked; not when the thought is right there for him to access whenever his doubt starts taking over. The demon being dead doesn't mean that he's stopped torturing him. Not by a long shot, actually – once Jace closes his eyes, it's his own body that he sees, but it's Lilith and her servant pulling the strings.

This night is no different – he can see his hands wrapped around Alec's throat, can hear his voice threatening and mocking and belittling everything either of them has ever held dear – and Jace's skin feels too hot and too constrictive and all he wants is _out_. To break out, be free, whatever it takes. It hurts to be so unsure of whether it's a dream or if he's just back to square one, but it's impossible to trust his mind anymore and so Jace just waits it out in the back of his own head; cowers away because he'd learnt early on that trying to bargain with the Owl only ever makes things _worse_.

Until he'd realised that there's virtually no way for that to happen. This is as close to his personal hell as it _gets_ ; Alec's on his back on the cold ground, rasping out his last words of forgiveness and love and regret again and again and in the end, that's how Jace realises that it's just a dream – he can get it to stop this time around, can get his hand to hesitate while the arrow hovers over his parabatai's chest and he's never managed to do that when the Owl had been in control. It's just a dream, nothing but a dream. Not this time. With far more difficulty than he would like to admit to, Jace opens his eyes.

And immediately comes face to face with Alec.

Well, face to shoulder, more like. Alec's on his back, still sound asleep. It's unusual for him to not be up after sunrise, but it's also understandable. The medics had mentioned something about this at some point – he had been strongly advised to rest even after the _iratze_ that had been applied over and over again and for once, he'd obeyed. He definitely needs it, Jace observes now and can't stop himself from tracing the outline of the already fading wound right under his collarbone, _fading_ , not bloody, nothing like the visions that Lilith had taunted him with.

Still, it's so close to the point of no return. That last thought brings the same sort of helpless panic that the nightmare had, but instead of pulling away, Jace just comes closer; rests his hand on Alec's chest and tries to mimic his breathing until his own body feels manageable once more. It's never quite as torturous when it's Alec he's using as an example.

 _He's real_ , Jace repeats to himself like a mantra, like a promise so fragile that it could break any moment now, _and so am I. Last night we had dinner, we went through the night's missions..._ He falters for a moment. They'd gone to bed together because they'd come to the conclusion that it helped, both with the residue magic in Jace's system and Alec's injuries. He remembers all the little details of it, so it _must_ have happened, Jace reasons; there's no other way. When the Owl had taken over before, there had been no falsified memories, just emptiness and his mind is rich with details now. _Then we ended up here. That's all there is to it._

That is _not_ all there is to it. All the little details that Jace is desperately trying to ignore are right there in front of him – the bruises and damages his body has sustained, dozens of them in more forms and sizes than he can count, Alec's wound, the fact that they're both here in the first place... but it doesn't matter now. The sunlight's streaming through the stained glass of Jace's windows and Alec's warm and solid and _right there_ and just for a moment, that's all that needs to exist. Jace tentatively tries to make the connection through their bond and senses Alec's contentment at the touch even if he's not fully aware of his surroundings and it's _this_ that grounds them both more than anything else; it's the bond that's keeping them both whole despite it all. He clings on to his parabatai even tighter and Alec's arms wrap around him in his sleep just as desperately – _he'd promised not to let him go, not again_ – and for once, for the first time in weeks, Jace knows exactly where his place in the world is as it wakes up for another day.


End file.
